Convicted
by GalnKay
Summary: "So this is it? I'm going to die? Just like that." "Draco, I swear, if there was anything I could do, I would do it. You know I would."


Hermione nibbled on the tip of her quill, grimacing as some ink spewed into her mouth. She skimmed over the neat, looping cursive on the parchment in front of her, and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She placed the paper in her desk and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. It was dark out, and the only noise to keep her company was the ticking of the clock in the corner of her office. She was exhausted, feeling as if she had been spread out too thinly. There was so much work to be done. She glanced halfheartedly at the literal stacks of folders and papers, all pending for her signature or her approval. So many letters piled up by her door, everyone wanting a piece of her or a bit of her already generously given time. She would admit, she was too nice. Nothing like the previous Ministers, who had all somehow been able to tell people no.

Some days she almost wanted to resign and just let some other poor soul run the place.

Almost. She had worked too hard for this job to let it go. Plus, not all days were that bad. Some days were actually quite enjoyable. She got to travel and meet interesting people. She was well liked and supported most of the time.

Alright, so Hermione could have had it much worse off. But it didn't help the fact that she was tired. And now she had a headache. She hadn't gotten a lick of sleep the previous night. After spending a long and tedious day at the Ministry, she had gone home and read over even more papers, until her eyes had become too tired to possibly read another word. She had gone to bed, and before she knew it, her clock alerted her that it was time to wake at four in the morning, and she had had to drag herself from her cozy flannel sheets and apparate to her office.

Hermione glanced at her watch, and decided that she would leave early for the night. After placing some necessary documents and her quill in her briefcase, she charmed the lights off, and shut the door behind her with a satisfying click. Turning to an older spectacle wearing witch sitting in a desk, she forced an exhausted smile.

"Well I'm actually leaving before ten o'clock, Lucinda. Can you believe that?" she said, chuckling bitterly. The woman laughed.

"Which is why I love being your secretary, Miss Granger, because you actually know when to take a break." Lucinda replied, teasingly. Hermione nodded.

"See you in the morning." she said, walking out into the main corridor, and stepping on a lift. No one was there. The Ministry of Magic was practically empty, but then again, most normal people actually went home at the end of the day. The entire place had a different feel to it when it was empty, so very different from having to squeeze through the mass of people in the mornings. The clacking of her heels upon the stone of the floor echoed through the rooms, enlarging the lonely feeling in the pit of her stomach. Hermione had been very lonely ever since she had left Hogwarts, throwing herself into her career, almost living at the Ministry. But her office was better than her cold, empty flat which she called home.

At the end of the war, her and Ronald had experimented with their relationship, attempting miserably at being more than friends. They had broken up after a couple of months of mediocre sex and awkward dinners, realizing that being best friends was what worked best for them. Harry and Ginny had gotten married right after the Final Battle and were now preparing for a third little baby. Now, Hermione lived by herself in wizarding London, her apartment piled high with dirty coffee mugs and take-out cartons.

Even as the Minister of Magic, Hermione was still unsatisfied. Her career as a Healer quickly ended before it began, and all of her friends had jokingly told her to run for Minister of Magic. Being who she was, she never backed down from a challenge, and had placed her name in the pot of potential candidates. Before she knew it, it was between her and Barytes Craven in the final vote. She won. It was still odd to her that she had so much power over the British wizarding community. She began to correct all previous mistakes, and soon developed a perfect little system in the wizard society, crushing segregation between Muggle borns and Purebloods, locking up any stray Death Eaters, and finally putting her dreams of S.P.E.W into action, officially allowing house elves to work for their very own pay. Dumbledore received his own holiday, a day of remembrance for the great wizard's death.

However, being the first Minister of Magic of her gender and age, a lot rested on her shoulders. Luckily, there had not been a war during her term, but there was still ever growing conflict between several wizarding nations. Wizarding Britain was a fairly peaceful community, but it was directly in the middle of the quarrels. Also, any of Voldemort's followers who happened to be around were ready to cause trouble.

Hermione Granger had been quite the savior these past few years, practically sweeping in and saving the modern magical word from a most tragic demise. This of course had taken up much of her personal time, causing her to miss weddings and parties and baby showers, and slaying all hopes of a proper social life. Harry and Ginny had taken pity upon her and had tried to drag her from her office for brunch some days, but had immediately regretted it when their friend was bombarded with adoring supporters and media, right at the cafe table. Hermione had been embarrassed beyond belief, and had graciously fled the restaurant after smiling and nodding at the ever growing crowd of people surrounding her table. The people became even more excited after learning that the famous Harry Potter was there as well.

After this incident, Hermione rarely went anywhere public, for fear of being recognized.

She ended her morbid reverie, stepped into the Ministry floo fireplace, and zoomed back to her flat for another night alone.

* * *

><p>"Welcome home." the man said gruffly, shoving the blonde man into the cell roughly. He fell hard on the muddy floor, wincing as he was welcomed with the scurry of rats and the dripping of water. The guard slammed the metal door with a bang, grinning toothily at his prisoner. Draco Malfoy leaned back onto the stone wall, scowling at his chained hands and feet. Peering through the tiny window up above him, he caught sight of the floating black forms of the dementors against the moon.<p>

He didn't deserve to be here. It was all his fathers fault anyway. Now, to pay for Lucius' actions, he was the one stuck in Azkaban, chained up and alone.

Most people went mad in Azkaban. Draco shivered at the mere thought of going mad. His aunt had gone completely insane from being in Azkaban, and he had no desire to do the same. She had described her time in the wizard prison as being one of absolute torture, telling about the floods of hopelessness and depression, from the dementors, and the intense claustrophobia that soon developed from being alone in a tiny cell for so very long. She spoke of the hunger, and how she had seen wizards waste away until they were nothing; after which they had been tossed away to the dementors, who and engorged themselves upon their prey's happy thoughts, if there were any left, which there rarely were. She had told him that madness was a blessing in Azkaban, relieving the brain of every thought, acting like an anesthetic for the pain, clearing the mind of all fears and hurt completely. Sometimes Draco wondered what insanity felt like.

No, Draco had already told himself repeatedly that he would not let himself waste away. He would never give up that easily. He had mentally chided himself over and over, assured that he wouldn't go round the bend, since his sanity would be his greatest weapon in Azkaban.

He still blamed it upon his father. He blamed everything on his father, even things that were not his fault. This, was not one of this cases. Ever since Draco had been little, Lucius had had this morbid obsession with power, often abusing his wife both verbally and physically, in order to show his dominance. And Lord Voldemort gave him that power that he so craved. He thrived on having authority over things weaker than he, often taking sadistic joy in punishing the less fortunate. After Draco had been sent to Hogwarts, this need for power grew and grew, rising into a burning hatred for all things inferior. He often took out his sick desires on Draco, casting unforgivables at his own son, hitting him and striking him, and pushing him into the Pureblood society, filled with meaningless people fighting for a meaningless cause, not wanting a Malfoy to associate with anyone of lower blood status. Violence was a must in the Malfoy home, as necessary as love and support in other homes, and Draco being taught advanced Dark Magic very early in life, soon mastering evil spells and potions. He was often forced into torturing the house elves until they died. When he was sixteen, Lucius signed Draco up for service under the Dark Lord. He was given his first mission, while still in school: to kill Professor Albus Dumbledore.

Draco still remembered that night. He had walked to the astronomy tower, his wand clutched in his sweaty hands, his face growing impossibly paler and his breath becoming rapid. Dumbledore may have been loony. Dumbledore may not have been Draco's favorite person. But Draco had no desire to kill the old man. Actually, he had no desire to follow Voldemort, but because of his father, had no choice. He knew if he didn't kill Dumbledore, he would be punished severely, along with his family. He had cornered the Professor, holding out his wand with a shaky hand, sobs threatening to escape his mouth. Dumbledore on the other hand, seemed infuriatingly and almost mockingly calm, saying soothing words and looking at him with a sad look in his blue eyes. Draco had felt a rush of pure pity for the old man, for being so trusting of everybody, no matter what the situation. But all of a sudden, Snape had appeared right beside Draco and had killed Dumbledore. Draco watched, his face contorted with pure horror as the only man who had ever protected him was killed before his eyes. He watched, begging the tears not to fall, as Dumbledore's body fell over the side of the wall, tumbling and crashing down onto the earth below. The entire world seemed to be in slow motion. Draco was shocked. He heard screams and explosions and shrieks of agony as the rest of the Hogwarts student body discovered the form of their beloved Headmaster, now bloodied and battered from his fall. And as quick as that, Draco felt the firm hand of Severus Snape on his shoulder, and with a pop, they had disapparated, collapsing onto the cold marble in the foyer of Malfoy Manor. Draco had begun dry heaving on his hands and knees, choking on bile, blood, and tears, Snape looking at him with a disapproving sneer. Still shaking, Draco had run up to his room, throwing himself upon his bed, sobbing uncontrollably, away from the judgmental eyes of his family.

His father had been sent to Azkaban, and Hogwarts, previously a safe-haven, had been overthrown by hoards of Death Eaters. Draco had stayed at the Manor with his mother and his aunt, away from the chaos erupting in the wizarding community. He watched as the outside world crumbled around him. But this did not mean that there was not chaos in the Malfoy household. Every day he saw and heard news of his friends and acquaintances from school being captured or tortured or killed. He watched as innocent muggles were raped and killed before his eyes at the dinner table, their disfigured corpses casually and heartlessly tossed aside, eyes still open, faces twisted into expressions of pure agony. He wouldn't ever be able to forget the faces: bloodied, bruised, covered with dirt and sweat and blood and semen, completely marred and contorted, totally unrecognizable. Frankly, Draco was quite happy that Potter had stepped up and played the hero, killing Voldemort, putting everyone out of their misery.

But of course, sins of the past were not easily forgotten, and after Lucius' death, the Ministry had found it necessary to keep Draco in prison for his father's actions. He was to stay locked up until his hearing in two weeks, which would decide his fate. It would be an understatement to say that he was nervous. The entire Ministry was against him, and with Granger as the new Minister of Magic, he was screwed.

He and Granger had never gotten along at school. He had practiacally tormented her about her prissy and studious behavior, her bushy hair, and her status as a Mudblood. He had played awful pranks on her, gotten her in trouble. She had punched him in the nose, called him names back, and had gotten him stuck in detention. She had been a nosy, bossy, sassy little swot. She had always been too serious about her education, and was always getting people in trouble by ratting them out. Not to mention, she was a show off, having to be the best in every class, making everyone else feel like an idiot. Near the end of their time at Hogwarts, she had become quite pretty and curvy, heck, he would have tapped that, but she was such a studious prude, that she didn't even date. Over all, the Hermione Granger that Draco had come to know had been annoying. He hoped their terrible history wouldn't affect her decision at his hearing.

Then again, it probably would.

* * *

><p>Hermione rifled through the seemingly endless stacks of paper upon her desk. She took a sip of orange tea from a blue mug, skimming over the never-stopping paragraphs of a document. She was about to lay the paper aside, when a name caught her attention. It was an announcement for a criminal hearing, for a Mr. Draco Malfoy. Her exhausted eyes alerted and began to read the page. Her breath hitched in her throat. What had he done? She had heard that he had changed sides after the war, and that he had turned against his family, and gotten his life in order. Of course, she hadn't spoken to him since their school days, but she had been happy to hear of his repentance, and had silently congratulated her former school mate on his full life turn around. Everyone deserved a second chance, right?<p>

Obviously not. He was scheduled for the Tuesday after next, which was an abnormally quick-planned hearing, considering, according to the file, that he had only just been placed in Azkaban a week prior. Normally, a criminal would have to wait in prison for months, even up to a year, before their trail was even announced. The youngest Malfoy must have dong something awful to be put in so quickly.

Of course, she had never really gotten along with him back at school, anyways. But it was going to be odd, overseeing the hearing of someone she had been semi-close to. She had know that he was a bit of a womanizing jerk, and occasionally, a self-centered brat, but really, besides almost killing Dumbledore, he was all bark and no bite. Plus, he had kept a fairly clean slate after the war, avoiding trouble and publicity.

Maybe people couldn't change after all.

* * *

><p>Draco growled, and curled up into an even impossibly tighter ball on the dirt covered floor of his cell. Light poured in from the open door, where a guard was standing, hands on his hips, a pail of murky water in his hand. Draco grunted angrily at the intruder, and shield his eyes against the unwanted brightness.<p>

"Get up." the guard said, dumping the bucket of disgusting, mildewed water at Draco. He sat up, spluttering and coughing.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" he asked, shocked and repulsed. The guard shrugged and chuckled.

"Your hearing's today, boy. Time to go." the man said gruffly, grabbing the back of Draco's shirt and hoisting him up in the air, practically throwing him into the corridor. The light which had woken Draco up, came from a torch on the wall. The rest of the hallway was pitch black, except for some patches of gray here and there. He could hear the insane babbling of the other prisoners, the dripping of water, the scurry of rats, and the deep breathy sounds of the dementors, hovering over everything, dark and ominous. It was the babbling that got to him the most. The jumbled words of utter nonsense coming form the mouths of the crazed men, men who probably used to be intelligent wizards. For once, Draco actually felt sorry for another person.

He had almost gone mad himself, even after only a month. Or had it been a month? He wasn't sure. He had lost track of time. After weeks of starvation, beatings, and thirst; after hours of cold and darkness and complete sorrow; after days of watching broken men being dragged down the dim hallways, bleeding, thrashing, screaming for mercy; Draco understood the concept of madness. He no longer scoffed at it. This was torment, plain and simple. He had been alone, by himself, with no one to talk to. He had even begun talking to himself, an action which frightened him. He had never thought that he would go off the deep end. He had sat, huddled in a muddy corner, rocking back and forth, praying to wake up, that this complete he'll was simply a twisted nightmare.

As he was led around the prison, he glimpsed into the other cells, totally identical to his own. The occupants were disturbing: some throwing themselves at the stone walls, some gripping onto the bars of the doors, whispering and hissing and growling like animals. Some were sick, vomiting onto the stone floor. Some were gnawing at their own flesh, lapping at the blood like hungry dogs. And some, just sat, staring blankly at nothing in particular, their eyes dull and their faces hollow. Draco choked back a scream, and turned his head.

And, as soon as that, this corridor ended, and he was shoved into a small, lit room, with a change of clothes and a mirror. The guard paused before closing the door.

"Try to look presentable." he mumbled, shaking his head, and slamming the door behind him. Draco sighed deeply, running a hand through his disgustingly matted and greasy hair. He peered at himself in the mirror.

He looked awful. His cheeks were sunken in, and his face was a pale and sickly yellow, with dirt and sweat smeared across it. His hair was shaggy and in tangles, falling on his shoulders and into his face. His eyes; his eyes were still the same blue-grey as they had always been, still bright, still shining. This in itself gave him a surge of pride. Even Azkaban couldn't break him. He washed his face and hair, and was pleased to find a wand had been provided for cleaning up. Magically, he cleaned his teeth and cut his hair, also casting a charm to get rid of the stench radiating from his body. He stripped out of his prison clothes, and changed into his black dress robes. Looking himself over, he noticed how wonderful he looked, despite all he had been through. With a smile, he rubbed his hands together happily and walked from the room back into the dark hallway once more, where his Ministry escort was waiting impatiently.

It was such a relief to breathe fresh air again. Once they were a distance from the jail, the sky grew brighter, in contrast to the heavy storm clouds always hovering over Azkaban, and once out of radius from the dementors, his heart felt lighter than it had let in weeks. Draco felt good, despite the fact he was in handcuffs and on his way to the hearing that would change his life.

They pulled up at the back entrance of the ministry, and Draco was led out by four Aurors. After they stepped into the building, Draco was taken down a private hallway, down to an empty lift, which would take them into the hearing rooms. The entire ride on the lift was agony. With each passing second, the army of butterflies in Draco's stomach grew larger, and his mouth went even drier, and his palms grew even more damp. He finally resorted to closing his eyes the rest of the way.

To say that he was nervous would be an understatement.

They took him to an empty room, where some of the jury was already seated, whispering and laughing among another. Draco was led into a back room to await the start of the hearing.

The worst of it all being the idea that his fate rested in Hermione Granger's hands.

* * *

><p>Hermione paced back and forth in her office. The hearing would begin in less than an hour. She was stressed, having gotten no sleep at all the previous night. She had never liked Draco, but she didn't feel that it was necessary to convict him of something ridiculous that his father did. She huffed, and took another swig from the flask of fire whiskey on her desk, concealing it in her bag once again when she was finished. She slumped into the nearest chair, and exhaled.<p>

Surely he was here by now.

Maybe she could talk to him.

Yes. She would talk to him. She was the Minister of Magic, and she could do anything she damn well pleased. With a rush of independence, she smoothed her hair down, readjusted her skirt, and marched down to the court rooms, her black court robes slung carelessly over her shoulder.

He was sitting there, a few feet away, in one of the straight-backed wooden chairs at the table. He looked calm, yet the frantic tapping of his foot under the table gave him and his nervousness away. She took a deep breath, and walked through the door.

"You are dismissed." she said firmly to the Aurors in the room. They looked at her skeptically, but stayed in the room. One opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm sorry, Minister, but I don't think this one needs to be left unguarded and-"

"I don't think you heard me correctly. I said, you are dismissed." Hermione said coldly. The Aurors hesitated, but eventually left the room. Draco still avoided all eye contact. Hermione pulled up a chair across from him, raising her eyebrows.

"Malfoy." she said quietly. He didn't speak. He looked good. But then again, he was Draco Malfoy, and he had always been undeniably and irritatingly perfect. She had never met a boy, or man, now, as fashionably handsome as Draco. It was almost other-worldly. His features were chiseled and aristocratic, with a strong jaw and a straight nose. He was muscular and lean, but not in a flashy, strong man sort of way. Just the way he moved, she could see that there was an undeniable strength there. His blonde hair fell just at his shoulders. His grey eyes were downcast as he sat, slouched in his seat.

It really didn't look like he had just spent the past three weeks in Azkaban. She cleared her head of these thoughts, mentally scolding herself. This was a serious time; no time for her hormones to go wild.

"Draco." she finally said. He looked up at the mention of his first name.

Well, Granger had done well for herself. She and definitely filled out over the years, and was wearing an outfit that should have been illegal. Really, no Minister of Magic, man or woman, should have been allowed to look like that. She was clad in a smart black pencil skirt, barely reaching the top of her knee, and show-casing the long luxurious legs that he never knew were there, only enhanced by the tall black stilettos on her feet. Her white button-up shirt, was snug, and was unbuttoned fairly low, revealing her plump breasts to their best advantage. Her once untamable hair, was pulled back into glossy waves of curls, piled on the top of her head. Her facial features were really nothing special, but she was still good looking. Her brown eyes were rimmed with kohl, and , and her lips were painted a bright red. Aside from the blush on her cheeks, she wore no other make-up. Not that she needed it. Not that she ever needed it, now that he thought about it. And when did Granger start to get so damn attractive?

"Granger." he mumbled, playing with an invisible snag on his thumb, trying not to look at her, because if he did, he'd never be able to look away. Hermione paused, biting her lip searching for the right words to say.

"I thought you changed sides." she commented, folding her hands, and leaning forward. Draco rolled his eyes.

"I did." he said, smirking bitterly. "Obviously people like you don't think so."

"I believe you. I really see no reason for you to even be here. As a matter of fact, I find it rather idiotic." Hermione said softly. He finally looked at her, confusion in his eyes.

"Don't you have the power to change all this, Granger? I mean, for Merlin's sake, your the Minister of Magic." Draco said, angrily. Hermione looked at her feet.

"I have to give you a fair trial, Draco." she replied simply. Draco snorted.

"I'm sure if it was Potter instead of me, you'd jump out of your seat to bend the rules for him." he sneered. Hermione glared at him.

"As you said, Draco, I am the Minister of Magic. Let's not forget." Hermione shot back cooly. Draco sat, slouched in his seat, scowling at her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. They were adults, and they should not be acting like children. But as they glared at each other, she saw the same scathing gray eyes as she had seen the first year at Hogwarts. Maybe nothing had changed at all. Maybe he was the same egotistical bigot that he had been at school.

"Yes. I remember, Granger. How could I forget that my life rests in your hands? Which is a terrible thought." he said after a while. Hermione glanced at the door.

"Draco, you know I can't help you. I'm not risking my position at the Ministry to break the rules for you." she said sternly. Draco actually laughed. He had a nice laugh. Now that Hermione thought about it, she had never heard him laugh before.

"Well if you're not going to help me, Granger, you could at least tell me what to expect out there."

"That," she said, "I can do. First of all, if they find you guilty for your father's crimes, which they most likely will, there is a chance that you could be sentenced to death." She faded out softly, in a hushed whisper. Draco's face went pale.

"But I didn't even do anything. Merlin, you even know I'm innocent!" he practically screamed, his hands gripping the table tightly. Hermione reached out to grab his hand, but he jerked away. She nodded, understanding his uncontrollable frustration.

"I know. But unfortunately, I am not allowed to stop a criminal hearing from taking place. It is against the rules. All I can do is listen to what you say out there, and see if I can lesson the punishment. Maybe a few months in Azkaban. But other than that, it is up to the jury." she explained. Draco frowned.

"They'll never listen. Their minds are already made up. Obviously, just because I am a Malfoy, I'm a bad person. Actually, I hated Voldemort, and I was never on good terms with my father in the first place." Draco ranted, blotches of red beginning to appear on his white cheeks. Hermione sat, listening, not saying a word. Draco paused, and looked at her oddly. She really was good at listening.

"Why are you even trying to help, Granger? We all know you hate me." he asked, sitting back down. Hermione smiled sadly.

"I guess I hated you back at school, but I figured, we're adults now, and we should be mature and at least try to be amicable towards each other." she said slowly. Draco bit back a smirk.

"Or could it be that I'm going to be sentenced to death, and that this is your way of sending me off?"

"And I don't want to see you die, Draco. I don't want to watch you be dragged out the back of the room into the execution chamber, and I don't want to see the dementors hovering above you sucking out your soul. I don't want that for you, Draco. No matter what you may have done to me in the past, I will give you a fair trial. You have my word." she whispered. Draco nodded stiffly. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, the door swung open. The Aurors had come back, and were waiting for him.

"Time to go. Minister, you better get ready too." one announced. Draco nodded at Hermione stiffly, and rose from his chair. Hermione followed suit, and shook his hand, giving it a comforting and discreet squeeze. Draco was then led from the room by his escorts, and Hermione went to go position herself for the hardest hearing of her life.

* * *

><p>"We will now begin the hearing and conviction of Draco Lucius Malfoy." Hermione began, almost as soon as the crowed grew silent. She hoped that her voice wasn't shaky. She was no stranger to convicting prisoners, but this was different. This hit closer to home. She snuck a glance at Draco, who was gazing straight at her, visibly trying hard to ignore the dementors floating above everyone's heads behind the patronus shield. He was locked in the traditional cage, with his hands and feet bound to a large metal chair inside of the bars, like an animal on display.<p>

Quite a crowd had shown up for Draco's trial. Which made it even worse when it was in front of an audience. Hermione took a deep breath. She nodded towards the members of the jury.

"Charges please." she said, giving the Head of the Wizengamot the go-ahead to speak. The man nodded at her, and then turned to face the crowd.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, charged with the conspiracy to kill and the murder of, Albus Dumbledore, conspiracy against the Ministry of Magic, and disruption of the peace." the man sat down. Hermione nodded, and looked over the people in the room.

"Objections?" she asked. No one spoke. "Moving on. Defense please." she said, then nodding towards Draco's attorney, a wiry, middle-aged man, with wide rimmed glasses. Clearing his throat, he stood.

"Thank you, Minister. First off, I would like to point out the fact that Mr. Malfoy was not the one to murder Albus Dumbledore. It has already been proven that it was Severus Snape who was the real killer, and he is already deceased. Second, Mr. Malfoy has already shown his loyalty to both the Ministry and to the cause by switching sides, and helping rebuild our society. His father, Lucius Malfoy, was the man behind the crimes, and Draco is as much a victim here as any one else. I see no just reason to convict a man to death simply for the faults of his family."

"Thank you, sir." Hermione said, as the man finished. Draco looked up at Hermione pleadingly. She felt her heart skip a beat. That look. That desperate, humble look. It almost made Draco Malfoy seem like a real person,and not the distant, sarcastic boy she was used to. His stare was penetrating and piercing, and her mind began to spin. Her gaze lingered upon him for a minute, before she smiled stiffly, and nodded towards the jury once more.

"Now let's take a moment, and wait for the jury to reach their decision, shall we? Feel free to walk around the Ministry, or wait here, if you like. You will be alerted when you need to return." she said slowly. The audience began to buzz with conversation, obviously content on staying in their seats, to discuss the trial. Hermione frowned slightly and was relieved to find Draco still looking at her. Her mouth went dry, and her heart began to pound with anxiety. She concentrated upon fiddling with her pearl bracelet, waiting to be called into the jury room, to hear Draco's conviction. Minutes ticked by, and slowly, an hour had passed. She could tell that Draco was growing restless, since he kept looking at her helplessly. Finally, a head popped out from behind the door of the jury room.

"Minister." Hermione practically jumped from her seat, and dashed into the room.

"What have you decided?" she asked softly. She prayed silently to any deity who would listen for Draco to be spared. The head juror nodded.

"We have found the defendant, Draco Lucius Malfoy, guilty of all charges. He will receive the death sentence."

The world stopped around her. Her eyes grew wide, and her heart thumped loudly. Her entire body seemed to have gone into a state of shock. He was going to die. He was going to die, for something he didn't do. She wanted to run away and never come back. She took a shaky breath, and nodded slowly.

"Alright then." she whispered, blinking back tears that were threatening to seep from her eyes. She stepped from the room, and stood tall on the Minister's stand. Looking directly at Draco, she spoke.

"The jury finds the defendant, Draco Lucius Malfoy, guilty of all charges." there were murmurs from the crowd. "His punishment: death."

All color drained from Draco's face as he blacked out, slumping, unconscious, in his seat.

* * *

><p>Hermione paced back and forth, mumbling vehemently, stealing glances at Draco every few seconds. He had gone unconscious during the hearing, much to the surprise of the crowd, and was now lying on the couch in her office, upon her immediate request. She sighed loudly, and sat down at her desk, just watching his chest rise and fall. He looked so peaceful and calm, and she almost didn't want to have to wake him. She would just let him sleep as long as she possibly could, because as long as he was sleeping, he was safe. She wouldn't allow them to touch him while he was under her watch. His brow was furrowed, and his breathing uneven, clearly not sleeping well. Hermione conjured up a blanket, and draped it over his body softly.<p>

The worst part of it all, was the fact that she was the one who had to perform the execution. There were three levels of wizarding execution: death by Unforgivable, Dementor's Kiss, and beheading. Animals which had been proved dangerous or a menace to society lost their heads. Petty criminals received the Kiss. Only the worst of the worst received the torture of the unforgivable curses. Draco did not deserve to be killed in such a manner, especially since her was innocent.

She spun around as she heard her name being spoken. Draco's eyes fluttered open, and he sat up, stretching. He shook his head and stared at the floor.

"Granger, Merlin. Please tell me this is a dream." he said slowly. Hermione swallowed hard.

"No. It isn't a dream." she whispered. Draco closed his eyes.

"So this is it? I'm going to die? Just like that."

"Draco, I swear, if there was anything I could do, I would do it. You know I would." Hermione said, walking over to the couch and sitting beside him. Draco looked at her, his eyes shining, his expression serious.

"Anything?" Draco asked. Hermione didn't speak, but nodded. Draco hesitated for a moment.

"Then will you help me escape?" he pleaded. Hermione stared at him, thinking hard.

"I can't do that, Draco. If I did, they could kill me too." she said softly. Draco frowned but nodded in understanding. Hermione sighed.

"As long as you stay in here, they can't touch you. So just, stay in here for the night, okay?"

"Granger, I mean, Hermione. Thank you." Draco said sincerely. Hermione smiled weakly and patted his hand.

"Now, get some rest, yeah? If you get hungry, there's food in my desk. Just help yourself." Hermione offered, handing him another blanket and a pillow. "There's also some fire whiskey in my drawer. You might need it."

* * *

><p>Draco took another swallow of the auburn liquid. He closed the flask bitterly, laying it down on the floor.<p>

This was the last night of his life. He wouldn't ever be able to travel any more. He would never see his friends. He would never get to pursue a career. It was so unfair. He was going to miss out on starting a family and growing old, all because of his father. He would never get to enjoy the simplest pleasures of life again, like sunrises and thunderstorms and rainbows and gardens. He really didn't want his life to end like this.

He gazed down at Hermione, who had conjured up a sleeping pallet for herself, and was curled up on the floor, beneath a thin blanket. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he watched the rise and fall of her chest, the shadow of her eyelashes on her smooth cheeks, the way her hair cascaded around her head, and the moonlight illuminating her form.

His eyes traveled down her slender neck, to the shape of her breasts under the cover of the sheet, and down her huddled body, to her feet, which were poking out the end of the blanket. He blinked a few times. She really was attractive. He closed his eyes, and tried to ignore the involuntary lump in his throat. So many years of his childhood had been wasted on tormenting this perfect angel of a woman. She had helped him so much through this entire experience. She seemed to understand how he felt. And even though he had bullied her endlessly, she still was doing everything she could possibly do to save his life. It had taken his this long to realize just how wonderful a person that she was.

And now, the end of his life was approaching and his hours were ticking slowly by. He was going to be dead by this time tomorrow.

He reached down and wrapped his fingers around the flask of alcohol again. He took another drink, numbing the fear and the pain.

* * *

><p>Hermione grimaced and sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her back hurt. She looked around. Maybe it was due to her sleeping on the cold floor of her office. She looked up at Draco, who was still fast asleep. She smiled fondly, and hesitantly reached up to touch his shoulder lightly, causing him to stir. His eyes remained closed, but he smiled groggily.<p>

"Morning." he mumbled, still half asleep. Hermione stood up, and began to fold up her blankets neatly.

"You better eat something." she commented. Draco sat up, and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Why's it matter? I'm going to die today anyways." he said bitterly, running a hand through his shaggy morning hair. Hermione shot him a cold glare.

"Don't talk like that, Draco." she said, in a soft voice that did not match the stern expression on her face. Draco sighed, twiddling his fingers.

"Granger, I feel hopeless. I just don't want to die. Not now."

"I know." Hermione whispered. Draco smirked at her.

"How about some of that food you mentioned?" he asked, quickly changing the subject. Hermione nodded, and walked over to her desk, pulling out a package of Muggle crackers and cheese. Draco looked at her strangely, tilting his head.

"Is that supposed to be breakfast?" he asked, looking incredulously at her. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"It's all I have on hand. Now eat." she said, thrusting the crackers at him. Draco glanced at her while he opened the plastic wrapper from his food. She was standing in front of a small mirror which hung behind her desk, brushing her hair, which was tangled from sleep. He smiled as he noted how bushy it looked this morning, reminding him of his school days. But his smile faded as his mind slowly drifted to darker things.

"How exactly am I going to be executed?" he asked quietly, biting into a cracker, and catching the crumbs that fell with his other hand. Hermione paused, and turned to look at him.

"Draco..."

"No, I want to know." he interrupted, swallowing his food. Hermione set her brush on her desk, and took a deep breath.

"You are going to be tortured with the Unforgivables." she said. Draco's gaze shot down to his hands, which we're folded in his lap. He didn't speak for a moment.

"Hermione," he said, looking up at her with a worried look. "Are you going to be the one to have to execute me?" Hermione's shoulders became stiff and her demeanor changed to something unreadable as she nodded. Draco exhaled, looking around the room, not knowing what to say.

"Draco, I can't do anything about it."

* * *

><p>Draco glared at the floor as he was led to the execution room. Their footsteps echoed against the marble floor in the dim corridor. Four Aurors surrounded him, two at the front and two at the back. There was absolutely no way for him to run and make an escape. The place was so heavily guarded. He let his mind go blank for the rest of the way. This was it.<p>

His entire body went numb as he heard the door close loudly behind him. He was here, and there was no getting out. The walls seemed to be caving in as he glanced around the room. He suddenly found it rather difficult to breathe. He looked up just in time to see Hermione enter, wand in hand, her face solemn, and her whiskey colored eyes watery. He nodded stiffly at her. She gripped her wand tightly, her knuckles white.

He was forced roughly onto his knees. He heard Hermione tell everyone to leave the room for a moment. Once everyone was gone, she knelt down in front of him, and looked into his eyes.

"I don't want to do this, Draco. It's going to torture me for the rest of my life. I just want to say that I'm sorry that I couldn't do anything more. You don't deserve this." she whispered hoarsely. Draco smirked sadly.

"You have to do what you have to do, Granger. Thank you for what you did though." he said, leaning over, and pressing his mouth against hers briefly.

"What-"

"Goodbye, Granger, I mean, Hermione." he said. Hermione cleared her throat and nodded.

"Goodbye, Draco." she said quietly. She stood up, and beckoned the Aurors back into the room. When they had reentered, she took a deep breath.

"Crucio." she said, pointing her wand at Draco with an unsteady hand. Draco braced himself, waiting for the all too familiar feeling of the spell. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth against the piercing pain that ripped through his body. He kept his eyes trained on Hermione who was holding her wand out in front of her, her eyes shut tight. Suddenly, his body just couldn't handle the pain, and a shriek emerged from his mouth. Hermione's eyes shot open at the sound, and she seemed to be having a difficult time standing up. Draco began to thrash around, writhing on the floor in pure agony, his body contorted. His hands and feet were still tied together, making it hard for his to move at all, and the metal bounds cut through his wrists and ankles as he twisted and turned, leaving smears of blood on the marble floor. His cries became strangled sobs as the spell continued, cutting through the looming silence in the room. The misery seemed to go on forever. Draco was in so much pain, that death would be a blessing. And suddenly, with one last anguished cry, the pain ceased. Draco's breathing became heavy as he vomited all over the floor. He could not sit up, and was forced to lay in his own sick. He swallowed hard, and blinked rapidly, gazing at Hermione, who looked as if she was about to cry. She nodded at him, and he forced a smile for her. She shut her eyes tightly.

"Avada Kedavra." she murmured. Draco's body went limp, his gray eyes still wide open and staring at her. Hermione let out a quiet sob, and she put down her wand with a shaky hand. She walked over to Draco and shut his eyes, wiping away the single tear which stained his cold cheek.

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter. It belongs to J.K. Rowling. <strong>

** So this idea popped into my mind a while back, but it's taken me a really long time to actually write it. I've been working on it for several weeks, due to the fact that it's been rewritten several times. **

** I had trouble with this story, mostly because I couldn't decide on how to portray Draco. I've always seen Hermione as being a sweet loving person, and has always been very easy for me to write about in stories like these. Draco on the other hand is a difficult person to capure in a story, and I dont think I will ever be able to fully understand him. For one thing, in the books for instance, he is forced to be evil, but you can see how he wants desperately to please everyone, which is why he does bad things. I really did no want to totally mess up his character in this story by making him too soft and kind, since he is a mean person. I also had no idea how to portray his emotions, because J.K. Rowling presents him as having no emotion at all. I pretty much wanted to really focus on his vulnerability. **

** I also did not want to write yet another Draco/Hermione romance story, but more of a friendship theme. ****Writing this story made me really want to cry, and I know that sounds cheesy, but it's true. It was just unbearably sad for me.**

** I think the main point that I was trying to get across through this story is that bad people can change and surprise you. And that even behind the coldest person, there is a heart, and there is feeling, and I really hope I did well on getting the emotion behind the story correct. **

**Thank you fo reading this. I worked a very long time on this story and I hope it brings people some enjoyment. **

**Read, review, and enjoy:)**

**KAY**


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